Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Twenty-two
Necessary Business
Daphne left from the floo at #12 Grimmauld Place that evening. They didn't get as far as the chaste snogging Harry had proposed earlier. Neither brought it up, but both understood if they started, they'd probably just keep going, start the honeymoon early and have the mélange of unfinished business waiting for them in the aftermath. Then they'd have to sort out the business while taking care to segregate it from a blossoming romance that demanded obeisance from its subjects. Neither wanted that Merlin-awful mess, instincts notwithstanding.
Daphne found herself unable to give Harry her full attention when she was at #12 Grimmauld Place because of all the intrusive ideas about color palettes revolving around emerald green silk wallcoverings. When she forced her professional witch's mind to go on to another subject it insisted on coming up with stray thought fragments and phrases such as, "Mistress of Potter Manor."
Alone, later, and calmed down somewhat, they told themselves they were starting over and would have to repeat the stage of observing and getting to know the other and having frank discussions and walks and outings with friends, so they were sure they both wanted the same outcome. When they were together they focused on their agreement to finish the Greengrass business first before exploring a personal relationship. Trouble was, the contact over business was proving to be a perfectly viable substitute for what's generally considered dating.
Floo calls went back and forth the following day as Daphne worked in communications with Greengrass Manor and Potter and Associates between consultations with her patients. Daphne normally loved office hours. She missed them on days when her practice was closed. Those interactions were the primary reason she chose a career in healing. She embraced a personal commitment to focus only on her patients during office hours. At the same time, Daphne needed to tidy up Cyrus' mess. The two duties were in conflict.
Daphne had arranged her own emancipation because she had the means and the fighting spirit necessary to confront her father and outmaneuver him. Now she felt that she had taken care of herself by buying her way out while offering up Astoria as a substitute. Her feelings were just that, as there was no way to establish a chain of cause and effect. Still, emotions don't require facts for validation. The need to finish up her work on Cyrus' financial affairs drove Daphne forward.
Harry was sitting in his office with Neville, Pansy and Hannah Abbott Longbottom, toasting the new enterprise. Harry, Neville and Pansy had visited the new building with Mort and Daisy, inventoried the maintenance and remodeling needs and sorted them into categories. The current tenants were not overtly cantankerous, for magical types, and welcomed, cautiously, the new owners' attention. Harry explained they would be working on some building issues and begged the renters' indulgence while they carried out necessary repairs. Insisting he was doing it out of respect for the tenants and their need to plan, Harry noted that the improvements might be more than the business could provide for free, and that some reasonable rent increases might be necessary. Of course the amounts would derive from the cost of the improvements and would be amortized over a reasonable period of time.
Neville and Harry thought the visit went well, overall. No one wants to get the news of a rent increase, but the residents didn't show signs of shock. After talking things over with the tenants the party went down to the first floor business spaces, then on to the basement. Magical properties are obliged to comply with safety codes the same as non-magicals. Harry asked Mort for a thorough inspection, which wasn't all that complicated since the building had no electricity.
Back at the office, Neville, Hannah and Pansy kept coming up with ideas for magical businesses that might be interested in the ground floor commercial space. Pansy had tabled a proposal to recruit a soothsayer, or possibly a blacksmith to care for centaurs' hooves when they were interrupted.
"Potter and Associates?" said a voice from the fireplace. "It's Daphne Greengrass."
"Daphne!" said Harry. "Can you come through? We're all here."
The flames and concurrent rush of air made a sound like 'Whoo-eee!' and Daphne walked into Harry's office.
"Daphne!" said four people in unison.
"Gosh!" said Daphne, giving an involuntary glance toward her wristwatch. "Party?"
Daphne worked her way through Neville, Hannah and Pansy, then stood next to Harry, an arm around his back.
"Yup," said Neville. "We're christening a new enterprise. Firewhisky?"
He reached for a bottle that stood on Harry's desk. Daphne watched as Pansy pulled out the bottom drawer of a wooden file cabinet and removed a heavy crystal glass about four inches tall.
"Just one," said Pansy. "We know you can't get blotto."
"Are you?" asked Daphne.
"Water," said Pansy. "Just a hint of a freezing charm and a wedge of lemon."
"Then I'll have the same, if you'd do the honors," said Daphne. She turned and looked at the other three.
Neville put the bottle down, looked at Harry and shrugged.
"Probably a little early anyway," Harry said. "If we stop now it won't count as cultivating bad habits and dissolution."
"Agreed," said Neville.
Hannah stood, leaned over and kissed Neville on the cheek, hugged Pansy and moved on to the still-standing Daphne.
"Got to go," she said. "The place spins out of control without warning."
Good-byes followed her to the door, along with a promise from Neville to be along shortly.
Harry looked at Daphne, ready, it appeared, to receive any updates she wanted to convey.
"Ready to do a little business?" Daphne asked.
"Of course," said Harry. "I didn't think you'd be ready until tomorrow."
"Neither did I," Daphne said. "I just have to get this done. It's intruding on my professionalism."
"Can't get in the way of that," said Neville. He tipped up his glass and drained the last bit of liquid. Standing up, Neville reached for Daphne's left hand with his right, holding it loosely as they stood, nearly toe-to-toe.
"I know just enough to know you're doing a huge favor for Astoria," said Neville, just for Daphne. He gave her hand a squeeze, then stepped back, looked her in the eye and nodded, once.
"Harry, Pansy," Neville said, following in Hannah's footsteps.
"Can you give me ten minutes?" Harry asked. "Fresh shirt. Brush my teeth…"
"Sure," said Daphne.
"Great. I'll be back. We can leave from here," Harry said, stepping into the fireplace.
"Well," said Pansy, "You've certainly learned to make an entrance."
"Oh, I'll be so glad when this is over," Daphne said, a slight choke coming through. "What do you know about our little project?"
"Harry said he was helping you get an accounting problem sorted," said Pansy. "I admit I rely on the goblins for mine."
Daphne burst out laughing. When she regained control of herself she gave Pansy a sanitized, two-minute synopsis of the state of her father's mismanagement of the Greengrass family financials. She went on, perhaps a bit more than necessary, and told Pansy of Cyrus' opening negotiations with the Selwyns, intending to commit Astoria to a marriage she didn't want in return for an infusion of cash. If Pansy didn't need to know all those details, Daphne definitely needed to vent a little.
"Oh, Daphne, how horrid!" Pansy exclaimed. "How can these wizards keep doing this to us?"
"How can they do a lot of things to us?" asked Daphne.
Pansy set her jaw and looked away from Daphne.
"Pansy?" Daphne asked. "What? What did I say?"
"Not you," Pansy said. "Difficult memory, that's all."
"Oh," said Daphne. A light came on as she went back over their last exchanges. "Oh. Oh, Pansy, I didn't know, I swear. When? Can I help?"
"A long time ago," said Pansy. "I ought to be over it. Much worse things have happened to people, some of whom we knew. I'll tell you, but I'm not ready for it to be common knowledge just yet. I'll rely on your professionalism. And I'll stop if he comes back. Agreed?"
"Of course," said Daphne.
"I proposed betraying Harry, right in front of everyone, there in the Great Hall," Pansy said. "Remember?"
"Yes," Daphne said, breathed really, her voice barely audible.
"Professor McGonagall sent Slytherin down to the dungeons," Pansy went on. "Three Death Eaters came in, in the chaos right after the end, looking for some diversion. They must have thought Azkaban was their new home anyway, as soon as they were captured, so… I was outside the common room, no one else was close by right then. Vulnerable. One of them petrified me and they picked me up and took me straight into another room, laughing all the way. They closed the door. They laid me out on a big wooden table, enervated me, put their hands here and there. Got ready for their recreation."
"Oh, Pansy," said Daphne.
"No, no," Pansy said, "That's not how it went. Right after he settled things in the Great Hall, Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Order and Dumbledore's Army were all fanned out, going through the school, clearing spaces, looking for fugitives. He walked in on us and saw what was happening. He didn't say anything or use his wand. He just pointed. One count of three later and three Death Eaters had joined their lord. No curses, either. He just raised them up and slammed them hard into the flagstone floor, all by himself. With his finger, pointing, like I said, all accounts settled in full. I was still on the table, shaking. I couldn't control myself. Shock, according to Madame Pomfrey. They'd pulled my knickers off and thrown them across the room, so I willed myself to get up and went to get them. Harry said, 'No. Shake out your skirt. No one will see anything. These can never touch your skin again. I don't even want you seeing them.' Then he used inflammare. Nothing left."
Pansy took a moment while she kept an eye on the fireplace. Her voice became low, in pitch and volume.
"Harry asked, very sweetly, 'Did they?' I stopped blubbering enough to say, 'No. Thanks to you.' He told me to go to the dorm, get cleaned up and properly dressed and wait there. Blaise came for me later and took me away. All so much better than I deserved, of course."
"Pansy, that's…" Daphne tried. "But you recovered, it seems. You even work for Harry."
"He's not shagging me, Daphne," snapped Pansy. "We never have. He has never suggested it, nor has he once put a hand on me in a suggestive way. I know you've been wondering. It's all over your face."
Daphne turned bright red. She couldn't look at Pansy right away.
"Yes, I suppose," said Daphne. "The question kind of asks itself, doesn't it?"
"Hmmph. That's not the whole story," Pansy said. "It's not even the most important part. My family was no help afterwards. They had their own problems. I started drinking. Getting men to buy. Getting them to take me home with them at the end of the night. I didn't quite make it to the ranks of honest working girls but I was so darn close. One night, I was in a tight spot with a very aggressive wizard in a very sleazy magical pub. A real organized crime joint.
"Harry walked in, watched us for awhile, and evened up the odds. Took me home. Cleaned me up. Sat up in a chair while I got a good night's sleep in a safe place for the first time in months. Sat me down the next morning and gave me a good breakfast along with a good scolding. Told me lots of people had had it as bad, or worse than me, but it was a new day and they were putting their lives together. I could do the same, if I wasn't afraid of a little work. He made sure I found a meeting to attend. Got me some books. Paid for my room in a respectable hotel. He stayed with it when I wanted to quit."
Pansy stopped there. She looked at Daphne, straight into her eyes, assessing her classmate.
"That is, so, so…" said Daphne.
"Yes," said Pansy. "They were going to kill me at school, I have no doubt. A mask slipped. I recognized the face behind it. They couldn't have let me out of that room alive. Then I took my new life and tried to throw it away, until Harry got me out of a second mess. I betrayed a classmate who had never done me any kind of harm, tried to convince others to turn him over to the Dark Lord, and he saved my life, twice, in the space of a year."
Neither said anything, they just stared at the fireplace, each thinking her own thoughts.
The whooshing sound and flare of green flames announced Harry's arrival. Daphne and Pansy, out of habit, slipped their finger tips over the ends of their wands.
"Just me," Harry said, stumbling slightly as he exited the fireplace. "Are the Slytherin witches all caught up?"
"Oh, thoroughly," said Pansy. "Except for the report I'll need after your excursion."
Harry looked at Daphne.
"I don't know, Pansy," Harry said. "Daphne's very oversold on this whole idea of discretion. I don't know how she expects a witch or wizard to learn. Well, shall we?"
"Let's," said Daphne. Harry was headed toward the outer office and the door that opened into the lane, but Daphne dropped behind. She pulled Pansy into a hug, a long, almost-crushing hug.
"Go," said Pansy. "Take care of your business."
Harry didn't understand the historical context surrounding Daphne's parents at all but found the atmosphere so different from what it had been like on his earlier visit that he guessed Cyrus and Cordelia's interpersonal relationship had undergone some adjustments. Cordelia carried herself with a bit more force and confidence. She was not aggressive in her tone or body language, but she seemed assured, sober, in command, and happy to be there. Cyrus had lost the bluster. He smiled. He looked Harry in the eye when they shook hands. Outwardly he was much the same. The imperious air was gone. Harry didn't know if it would come back, eventually, but Cyrus seemed, for the present, to have accepted a measure of relegation.
The four of them sat down again. No one mentioned Astoria. Harry hoped that meant she wasn't going to be part of some harebrained, Cyrus-initiated contract. He had his own thoughts about what it could mean to marry into the Malfoys, but if that was what Astoria wanted, she might as well get it and see what she could make of the situation. It couldn't turn out much worse than being stuck with Laurent Selwyn.
Back in London, Harry had tried to build up Daphne's confidence and convince her the plan would be a huge success, and she was just the person to sell it to Cyrus and Cordelia.
"You do presentations all the time, to your healer colleagues," Harry said. "I know you all have conferences and write journal articles and make presentations. You aren't the only healer I know. Just do the same preparation you do for a conference, then walk your parents through what you want to do. I'll be there, but just as a reference. If you get a question you can't answer, give it to me."
Daphne stumbled around once or twice at the very beginning. She didn't have a lot of practice telling two strong-willed immediate family members of the older generation that she was taking over their lives, whether they liked it or not. Still, once she got into her presentation groove it did prove to be much the same as delivering a paper at a healers' conference.
"So, those are the main points," Daphne said, winding up to her conclusion. She had laid out the obligations, their normal living expenses, with the additional burden of payments going out every which way due to charging purchases and taking out loans. She went on to show how Harry's assumption of the mortgage relieved enough of the monthly burden to begin paying down debt immediately, as long as her parents did not overspend. Cyrus gasped when Daphne told them what their allowance would be. A look from Cordelia was sufficient to pinch off further comment from Cyrus.
"Harry?" said Cordelia when Daphne was done. She continued to look at the parchment Daphne had given her that summed up Daphne's budget plan for the next year.
"Nothing to add," said Harry. "Except, maybe, isn't she something?"
Cordelia laughed out loud. It was the first time she had done that in Harry's presence.
"She is that," said Cordelia. She turned her head, looking first at Daphne, then her husband.
"We can do this."
Cordelia kept her eyes on Cyrus, who hadn't spoken since his reaction to the allowance figure.
"What?" asked Cyrus
"I think I'd like to have your agreement, Cyrus," said Cordelia. "I said, we can do this."
"Sure, we can," said Cyrus. He didn't sound enthusiastic. Cordelia looked at him, her face set in a frozen neutrality. Harry tried not to interpret. Every couple that has been together awhile has an internal language largely alien to outsiders.
"Excellent," said Daphne. "So we're agreed?"
She glanced at Cyrus, a pro forma moment of eye contact, before moving on to Cordelia. Harry noticed their jaws clenched in a mother-and-daughter set. They looked formidable enough to him, although he couldn't read Cyrus' thoughts.
The rain had begun in earnest about half an hour before the end of Daphne's presentation. The light cast by the oil lamps died, perhaps two feet beyond the windows, so that outside it looked as if the entire world had been painted in a coating of coal dust. Harry looked over at Daphne, who had just finished returning her parchments to a pasteboard portfolio. Daphne raised her eyebrows.
"Anything?" she seemed to be asking.
Harry was ready to discuss dinner plans but he was completely at a loss for protocol in their present situation. On one hand, he would have liked to transition out of the difficult business of carrying out a coup on a sitting head of an ancient and noble family. Gathering for dinner at a neutral place, breaking bread and avoiding all talk of business would have felt to Harry like a natural thing to do. They might even find favor with Cyrus, who could see Harry in a less-sensitive context. On the other, Harry might be seen as the interloper Cyrus had already accused him of being, one who Cyrus suspected had seduced his daughter as the first step toward a hostile takeover the Greengrass family assets. In that case, picking up the tab for dinner would appear to be a case of the victor patronizing the rival he had just defeated. Harry definitely didn't want that.
Harry shrugged. Being patient and letting Daphne take the lead seemed indicated. Harry couldn't think of anything else right then.
"Questions?" asked Daphne, looking from Cordelia to Cyrus.
"Not from me," said Cordelia. "This looks well-thought-out and very practical. Cyrus?"
"It does look practical," Cyrus admitted. He sounded reluctant to continue. Perhaps he knew he should have gotten on top of his problems much earlier, but he hadn't. Perhaps he was as mystified by that fact as were the rest of his family.
"Astoria?" asked Daphne, moving along to another subject.
"Tea at Malfoy Manor," said Cordelia. "It's starting to look like she's staying for dinner."
"Oh," said Daphne. She had a little worry showing when she glanced over at Harry.
She had no reason to be concerned. Harry would explain later, but Daphne didn't know at the time that Harry and Draco had observed a truce since the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts. The reasons were multiple and tangled. The most important were that Draco had not betrayed Harry that night at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa had not betrayed him in the Forbidden Forest, and Harry had returned Draco's hawthorn wand after using it to kill Voldemort.
There was another complicating factor. Harry couldn't dwell on it, because he knew it would throw his and several other lives into unmoderated chaos, but he thought Narcissa Malfoy was incredibly sexy. Since the Forbidden Forest, Harry and Narcissa had found themselves alone, very briefly, on three occasions. Thank Merlin for the brevity of those moments. Harry had felt something strong pulling him toward Narcissa each time, as if he'd been slipped a love potion and had no control over his emotions. One time, Narcissa had touched his cheek with her hand, brushed the underside of her thumb across his lips and smiled. Harry studied her face, closely, during the limited time available. Inscrutable as Narcissa usually was, she appeared to Harry to be transmitting mixed feelings of affection and regret that they could not explore further. If she was, her emotions mirrored Harry's.
It all went back to the first hours after the battle. Harry participated in the sweep of the castle, during which he dispatched the Death Eaters who appeared to be taking turns with Pansy. He had just returned when Narcissa had found Harry in the crowd milling about the Great Hall. She walked straight to him, wrapped her arms around him directly in front of her son and husband, pressed her breasts into his chest, hard, put her lips right on his ear and whispered 'Thank-you,' over and over and over. Harry still remembered the scents, Narcissa's perfume mixed with her sweat. She was a noble woman in need of a bath and a few hours of extreme care at the hands of a skilled lady's-maid-elf, but Harry was a newly-minted warlord with his enemies' blood still wet and victories still fresh on his mind. He still felt a flush when the old feelings sneaked up on him. He still had dreams of Narcissa in the Great Hall. He dreamt of no one but himself, and Narcissa. He always hugged her, picked her up and sat her down on the end of one of the house tables. He stood between her thighs, put his nose in the hollow between her collarbone and the base of her neck and breathed in. He smelled Narcissa's sweat, perfume, and enemy blood. As he inhaled, he heard her name, sung, as if by the angels' choir. It sounded so sweet.
Harry understood she was thankful he had saved her only child, as well as getting the Dark Lord Voldemort out of her family's life and prospects, a positive outcome no matter what Justice eventually decided to do with her Death Eater husband. Of course she was grateful, if not to Harry, to the idea of the young champion who righted her world, and herself along with it, when that world was spinning completely out of her control.
Harry hadn't studied psychology but he didn't feel like he needed formal study to know that Narcissa's positive emotions toward him were all mixed up with gratitude for what he had done for her family and relief that she and her son, at least, would go on living. He also knew if he and Narcissa acted on lingering feelings of attraction it would blow both of their worlds sky-high. Thus he worked hard to stay on the most proper and correct terms with the elder Malfoys and lightened up a little with Draco. Still, it was Harry's opinion that everyone's best interests were served, when it was necessary for him to interact with a Malfoy, to maintain a respectful distance.
The time would come when Daphne would raise the history of the Malfoys and Harry Potter, Harry was sure. Harry resolved, not for the first time, to think that eventuality through, before the time came when he'd be forced to deal with it.
"Well, then, I guess we're done," said Daphne. Cyrus nodded, not really looking at any of the others. He was as glum as Daphne had ever seen him.
"You're taking the floo, surely?" asked Cordelia. "The rain is coming down in apocalyptical buckets."
"Yes, that's for the best," said Daphne. She motioned toward the door with her head, and Harry dutifully stepped off behind her, Cordelia trailing them both. Cyrus remained seated, staring straight ahead.
"Mother, you must keep an eye on him," Daphne muttered when they'd closed the door. "Don't let him get too far down in the dumps. This is not a big deal. Everyone can use a hand now and then."
"I'll do that," said Cordelia. "He's been slapped down. His self-image is damaged. He had an ego much bigger than his accomplishments could support, or justify, at least these last ten years. It never occurred to him that he was a not-bad quidditch player and he might have to put in a little effort if he wanted to become something more than that."
"How are you?" Daphne asked.
"You are asking about my…ahh…consumption, these last few days?" asked Cordelia.
"Yes, I am," said Daphne.
Cordelia looked at Harry.
"You can talk in front of Harry," said Daphne. "He's been all over the accounts. Sorted out the invoices. He can read."
Cordelia's mouth curled up on the right, a very rueful smile acknowledging the layered truth of Daphne's statement.
"The Paper Trail. I've cut down," said Cordelia. "No problems so far."
"That doesn't have a high probability of success, Mother, statistically speaking," Daphne observed. "You're free to give it a try. We'll talk."
"Yes," said Cordelia. "I'll hold you to your word, Daphne. We haven't had enough of that, for a long, long time."
"Good," said Daphne. "We'll leave you to it, then. Love you, Mum."
"I love you too, Daphne," said Cordelia. She put one arm lightly behind her daughter and the two leaned together.
"Harry, thank-you again, for everything," she said. Harry answered with a nod.
"Madam Cordelia," he said.